


Wise Men

by ultimatebellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Dance, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimatebellarke/pseuds/ultimatebellarke
Summary: That one time with too much alcohol and a slow dance.





	

Clarke admits today’s victory, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t necessarily the biggest. Yet it provided the glimmer of hope needed in the many bleak days to come, and most importantly, it provided reason to break out the alcohol. All of Arkadia, gathered in the courtyard, had come back for refills. And now, thanks to Jasper’s music blasting from the Rover, they are all dancing. For the first time in a long while, Clarke sees her people laughing.

Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, and Miller had hung back at first, to facilitate the distribution of alcohol. Clark would’ve done anything to keep herself from joining in on the festivities. God knows Clarke doesn’t deserve it. Yet now, after consuming copious cups of alcohol, Clarke is no longer so sure about her decision to refrain.

Then Miller leaves their group, walking into the crowd with his shoulders squared to ask Bryan to dance. Raven complains profusely about the music – specifically, why it keeps changing tracks every three seconds, and did they only change when it got to the good parts, and who put Jasper in charge of the music, anyway – then she complains about the state of Monty and Harper’s dancing. She leaves soon after, adamant on “teaching these uncoordinated fools how to dance”.

As Clarke watches Raven strut into the crowd, Bellamy says to her, “And then there were two.”

Clarke gestures to the drinks they’d each adopted from Miller and Raven. “And four drinks.”

Bellamy takes a sip from Miller’s cup. "We can have a party on our own.”

"I guess we can,” Clarke says. She lifts a shoulder, sending Bellamy a small, sideways smile. “But I really like this song." 

Over his cup, Bellamy is looking at Clarke in a strange way. His face is flushed from the alcohol, his curls springing out in a million directions from the amount of times he’s run his fingers through them. He puts his drink down. Clears his throat. He says, "Want to dance with me, Princess?”

Maybe it’s the euphoria from the victory. Maybe it’s the alcohol, buzzing through Clarke’s veins and making everything seem bright. Maybe it’s the music, the singer crooning, “Oh, oh, oh, sweet child o’ mine…”

But Clarke finds herself grinning. She says to Bellamy, “Thought you wouldn’t ask.”

The two find a spot right in the middle of the crowd. Clarke has decided to fully commit to letting loose, about to shake and jump as idiotically as she can, when the song changes.   
“Damn it, Jasper!” Bellamy snaps. Clarke feels a similar sentiment.

That is, until, the piano notes begin, and the new song registers. 

For the first time that night, a slow song is playing. The piano notes, slow and elegant, is accompanied by a deep, rich voice: “Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Around them, the ruckus and singing is shifting, quietening. Couples begin to gather close, giggling at the relaxing of rhythm, the change in mood.   
Bellamy says, “I really like this song.”

Clarke says, “Me too.” She closes the gap between them, placing a hand Bellamy’s shoulder, the other clasping his fingers. Bellamy hesitates, seeming unsure what to do. Clarke realizes he’s never slow danced, before.

“It’s mostly just swaying,” Clarke informs him. “The footwork is only to show off.”

“Wise words from the Princess,” Bellamy mutters. 

Clarke, accidentally, of course, steps on his foot. After a bit, she drops his hand, looping her fingers behind his neck. His hands drop to her waist, and they begin to dance.   
“Take my hand,” the song croons, “Take my whole life, too.”

Clarke starts as the couples around her, as one drunk ensemble, sing, “But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

The result is so off tune, so in discord with the delicate piano, that Clarke can’t keep from laughing. In the next verse, she decides to join in. “But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Bellamy, much to her disappointment, stays quiet. Clarke says, “You have to sing it.”

“I have to?”

“Yes.”

“You are living up to your title, today.”

“What title?”

Bellamy smirks at her. “Demanding princess.”

Clarke scowls, although it’s hard. She only wants to smile. Clarke says, “Come on, Bellamy. Just sing it once." 

But the song ends and a new one begins, and Bellamy does not sing. The crowd returns to its chaotic celebrations, the participants jumping and shaking to the much more upbeat music.  
Yet the two remain in standing in an embrace, as if the piano is still playing. Bellamy is looking at Clarke with a softness to his eyes that makes Clarke’s heart hammer. “Fine,” he murmurs. "I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Clarke’s throat is suddenly dry. She croaks, “You have to sing it.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You can never please royalty, can you?”

Little does he know, Clarke’s chest feels as if it will burst from joy—for some reason, for the first time too long, she is happy. And that scares her more than anything.

Still, to Bellamy, she says, “No. But you can keep trying.”

“I will,” Bellamy says. “Despite what wise men say.”


End file.
